


A Rock Feels No Pain And an Island Never Cries

by Notasmuch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gay Bashing, M/M, Original Character(s), Violence, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notasmuch/pseuds/Notasmuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gay boy crushing on Dean in high school. Not relationship, ever so subtle hints of possible future Wincest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rock Feels No Pain And an Island Never Cries

**Author's Note:**

> Dean is 16, Sam is 12  
> Origial character POV

He fidgeted until his head almost seemed to tilt naturally so far to the right. Almost.

The other boy was sprawled over his own desk, trying to look bored and not asleep. Cory knew better though. He didn't spend days on end watching Dean and following his every move just to miss signs as clear as these. The boy came to school tired and was beyond exhausted by the time last class started. Now he was breathing deeply, feet tucked under the chair in an awkward angle, face mostly hidden in his arms. On a patch of skin showing between an arm and hairline, Cory spied a splatter of freckles, though not his favorite one.

He pretended to find different shapes in them until the bell rang. Dean's leg twitched at the sound, but he made sure to get up lazily, like he didn't care enough to even run from the class. Cory trailed after him long enough to see him pick up speed and meet the kid that always stuck to him like a puppy whenever they were out of class. Dean ruffled the puppy's hair and Cory felt a familiar pang of jealousy at he sight, then murmured 'idiot' when the younger boy pushed Dean's hand away. Shoving and bickering aside, he knew the puppy and Dean were inseparable by mutual choice. He didn't mind. It wasn't like he would have approached the freckled boy even if he was sitting alone in the middle of a party. Cory did his stalking lovingly from afar.

That allowed him to keep his fantasy in which Dean wasn't a gay basher, in which he wouldn't get pummeled just for standing too close with his long scarf, light lipstick and girly features. His fantasies, the daylight ones anyway, were never 'dirty'. They weren't about sex or licking or any of the heating thoughts the darkness brought.  
They were about Dean dropping into his seat in the class and talking to him about whatever made him so exhausted; about Dean _scuffing_ his hair, and sometimes putting his arm around Cory's shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.  
In fact, they were so lame he was afraid someone would come over any minute and take away his "gay badge." _"All that_ man _and you want him to talk to you? You don't deserve to like cock!"_ Next thing he'd know, he'd be pining after Layne Matthers like every other guy in the school. He shivered at the thought.

Cory walked home avoiding all the bigger crowds. He didn't get beaten as often any more. Some time last year they got bored of it. But when he did, it was far more brutal than before. Like suddenly it was caused by real anger, not just child's malice. Dean didn't look like he cared about anyone's opinion much, but Cory knew how fast appearances changed under pressure.

He once saw, _by complete accident_ , Dean's father, with his leather jacket, muscle car and attitude that didn't leave room for weakness. Dean sometimes had the same posture, usually accompanied by a cocky smirk and decades of life in his eyes. Cory knew better than to approach. But the way Dean treated his brother, the puppy, belied the outer roughness. It didn't give him hope, but it lit fire to his fantasies. Both daily and nightly ones.

Cory sighed and rolled his eyes as someone shouted 'Fairy!' after him. If only he were a fairy. At least he could fly the fuck away.

**

Some days started out bad and worked their way up to worse. This morning his brother woke up in one of his moods and snarled the second he saw him, pinned him to the wall and smeared lipstick all over his face. Cory wanted to go to school like that, but changed his mind when he saw his mother's horrified look.

In class, he saw Dean finally got enough sleep, so he had to be extra careful when looking at him if he didn't want to get caught. In the long run, it meant he could barely look at all.

And now, it seemed to be _that_ time of month again. As he rounded the corner behind school, after watching the puppy greet Dean, he met five of his preschool "buddies", clearly waiting for him.

"Fairy princess. Came to play with us?"

"You gonna blow me?" Cory shot back.

Ryan's evil smile disappeared under the frown.

Some days he fought them, tried to escape, or hell, once, long, long time ago, he even called for help. Other times, he just wanted it over as soon as possible. This was one of those times.

A few more insults exchanged and the first punch flew. Pain on his cheekbone was numbing and he felt his eyes fill with tears on instinct. He wasn't going to let them fall, of course, but just knowing that they were there was a sort of comfort. He wasn't used to this yet, he was still alive and human.

He closed his eyes around the third hit, aimed somewhere near his ribs. He heard a crunch of bone and a gasp which he was sure were his, and waited for another bout of pain to spread. When it didn't come he was too confused to react. Then he heard it again, and remembered to open his eyes.

Dean was kicking Ryan, _who was lying on the ground_ , in his stomach, just as his fist smashed into another kid's nose. The puppy was there too. Looking not at all playful while he held a boy almost twice his size on his knees and pummeled into his face. Cory moved just in time to stop another one from grabbing Dean from behind, and then Dean's brother kicked the last boy's knee and the bone made a sound Cory never heard before. Pretty soon all five of them were running away. All but Ryan that is, who was carried by two of his friends, looking unconscious.

"You all right?" The puppy was looking up at him and he had trouble looking away from Dean's happy smile long enough to assure the kid that he was.

"Nice work, Sammy!"

Sammy, _the puppy had a name_ , looked at Dean and rolled his eyes, but his own smile was happy and proud.

Then they both turned to look at him. He was suddenly embarrassed about his messed up clothes and bloody chin and probably smeared lipstick. And slightly afraid of what would happen when they realized exactly why he was being beaten in the first place. A long minute passed, during which they probably expected him to say something, but he was frozen in place.

Then Dean looked around and scratched his neck. "Ok. Well. We'll be going now. I don't think they'll be back."

Sammy, _Sam?,_ frowned at him. He was painfully aware that he was letting Dean walk away thinking he was an ungrateful gay bastard, and even the kid brother knew it. He swallowed and forced himself to talk.

"Thank you!" They both flinched and turned around looking at him. They were barely a step away, shouting was probably not necessary. "Um. Thank you. For that."

"No problem man. You might want to clean up a bit before you go home."

He touched his face and spent too long wondering if the sticky thing he felt was blood or makeup.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Sam was standing closer again and this time he reached out to grab his chin and look at the split lip. "We should help him, patch this up."

Dean just shrugged and lead the way to the toilets. Sam ended up cleaning his face and Dean just passed toilet paper and observed the progress, much to Sam's annoyance.

"Do you know why they attacked you?" Sam's question was too innocent to be some kind of provocation but Cory wasn't really sure. Dean seemed to have the same problem.

"He's wearing makeup Sam. What do you think?"

Sam looked at Cory's face like he never saw it before and Dean blushed, probably when he realized what he said.

"Sorry. But..." Dean waved towards his face and Cory stepped back, scared for a second, before his brain kicked in and explained that Dean already knew. And wasn't beating him up.

He nodded then. "It's ok. I do."

"Why would you do that?" Sam was still openly curious and Cory couldn't help but smile. The kid could beat up someone probably five years older but still managed to be so innocent? It was worth the sting when he grinned. But he wasn't sure Dean would appreciate him explaining it to Sam so he just shrugged.

Dean clasped Sam's neck. "'Cause he's secretly a girl. Like you."

Sam kicked Dean and washed away the last traces of blood from his face. "If they beat you up for it, shouldn't you stop doing it?"

"Why would I do anything they want me to?"

"Because pain is bad?" Sam was looking at him like he was possibly an idiot.

"He's proving a point, Sammy."

Cory mirrored Sam's curious look now.

"They don't have to like him. He knows who he is."

And maybe only the first part of that was right, but he liked that that was how Dean saw him. Not a tired freak, but someone strong and sure of himself. He suddenly, ironically, wanted to be that for Dean.

They walked out together. Dean joked and Sam looked permanently annoyed but neither moved to break the contact between Sam's shoulder and Dean's arm. They included him in their ribbing and jokes but he knew just by looking at them, _that_ kind of closeness was not something either of them would ever share with anyone else.

He got a moment to sort through the happiness of being there, with Dean, laughing with him, of Dean knowing the truth and not leaving. It was good, this acceptance. He had no idea happiness could itch like a healing bruise, and the only way to scratch it would be to laugh as loud as possible.

He spent the night half awake, imagining or dreaming of all possible scenarios for tomorrow.  
Dean coming up and talking to him like they were old friends, Dean kissing him, Dean ignoring him, Dean hitting him after Cory walks up to him, Dean naked, sometimes the classics are the best, Dean wearing makeup, Dean Dean Dean... By the time he woke up he couldn't remember ever having a thought that didn't involve freckles and green eyes.

What actually happened was much more real, and all the better for it. Dean nodded to him before falling into his chair, tired again, and fifteen minutes into the class started making funny faces at him, making him giggle. He probably did it to keep himself awake but Cory wasn't complaining. He only stopped after the teacher promised to send them both to principal's office if they _didn't_.  
Later they walked out of class together, laughing and talking about uselessness of everything they were learning in school and it was like any two classmates talking.

**

Dean, it turned out, really didn't care about what anyone thought. He seemed to know his purpose in life and whoever didn't get it, could go fuck themselves. Cory observed that phenomenon for days before he made up his mind. The first time he came to school without makeup, he felt naked. Dean didn't comment. He angsted over what that meant the entire day, until Sam said it looked better like that and Cory saw Dean had no idea what they were talking about. He was too amused to be insulted.

Two months passed before he realized nobody was after him any more. Whether they were all afraid of Dean or sensed he couldn't be bothered by them any more, didn't really matter.

His dreams didn't come true. Dean never told him what made him so tired, never even leaned into him, much less put his hand in Cory's hair. But he talked about girls, and listened to Cory talk about boys, and if both of them had no idea what the other was talking about, that wasn't a problem. And sometimes Dean smiled at him with the same proud-parent smile he used on Sam, and Cory knew he answered it with the same stupid grin Sam would get, but couldn't stop it from spreading no matter how much he tried.

His crush on Dean turned into something much deeper. There was love and respect, admiration, some exasperation, more love, lust, loads and loads of lust, a thin layer of pain at the knowledge that Dean would never be his, wrapped into pure happiness. He started caring for Sam like a little brother he never had. He was an amazing mix of innocence and worldliness and it woke up every protective instinct Cory had. Even if no protection was needed.

He found out Dean didn't have a politically correct bone in his body, and no matter how much Sam tried, probably never would. He was actually happy the first time Dean called his shirt gay and didn't stop to do the awkward almost-apology.

The first time he kissed another boy, Sam was the first person he told. Sam made the same face he did when Dean talked about kissing girls and it made Cory feel good.

They taught him to fight. Some. He figured out soon enough not to try and keep up with them but go at his own pace, but soon he knew how to deflect enough to give himself time to escape at least. Not that he needed it any more. But just in case.

He met John Winchester. Learned he wasn't wrong about him, but the man just seemed too busy to hate gay people. He definitely hated someone though. He also learned that he too could hate without a clear reason. And he did hate John. In a sense, finding out that one day John would pick up and take Dean and Sam away from him was a relief, because he finally had a reason for all the animosity. Didn't stop him from sobbing into his pillow that night.

Didn't stop him from running from school and spending the night on the steps of Dean's house the day Dean didn't show up at class and he found a note in his locker, either. His mother cried when the police found him and brought him home. He couldn't bring himself to care.

He clenched the note in his hand for two days after that, and kept it with him through the months when letters came, and later, when they stopped. He kept it through college and four boyfriends. It drove his husband insane until he promised to tell him everything about it, and then even more.

Sometimes he'd leave it at the bottom of a drawer and forget about it for months. Then he would be looking for a pen and memories would come crashing back. The weak boy that he was and two people who made him what he was today. The only proof he had it ever really happened. He touched the pale ink and yellow paper, wondering where they were now, if Sam's shoulder still touched Dean's arm and if Dean still smiled proudly at his little brother, both of them blushing under the weight of their love.

_We're moving on. I'll write. Dean can't spell anyway. Sam_  
Sam will be too dead to write. Stay gay! Dean.  
PS I rhymed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Important note I keep forgetting to put in: Cory isn't a stereotype-breaking cis man who particularly enjoys wearing make-up. I worry about the line where it is mentioned as a good thing that he stopped wearing lipstick. My idea was that he wears lipstick as a challenge and maybe a bit as a mask and the reason he's happy is because he was being left alone and he stopped hiding, not because men and make-up are a bad combination. There are people of all genders who wear make-up for various reasons and they should all be individually respected.  
> Sooo, yeah. I tend to hate notes like these, like trying to explain a joke after you told it, but I think it matters, just this once.


End file.
